


Dozen

by BumblebeeDean



Series: bunker things verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Bunker, Bunker Life, Domestic Dean, Fallen Cas, Gen, M/M, No British Men of Letters, Post-Series, fallen!cas, i just want domestic tfw, season 12 is not a thing, selective mutism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-15 03:46:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11797728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BumblebeeDean/pseuds/BumblebeeDean
Summary: When Cas loses his grace he doesn't leave the room for eleven days. He doesn't speak for much longer.





	Dozen

**Author's Note:**

> this is the first fic i've ever written and posted on here. the first one i cared about enough to share. i am super nervous to share it and i hope you read it and enjoy it!
> 
> my [friend](http://archiveofourown.org/users/larrykingsdecapitatedhead/profile) is the one who helped me edit this and encouraged me to keep going. :)

It’s a normal Wednesday when it happens and Cas doesn’t leave his room for eleven days. He doesn’t talk for much longer.

Dean’s sitting in the library reading a comic book when he hears a door slam. Sam’s sitting at the table with him so it has to be Cas. He calls out to him on his way to his room and attempts to open the door. The handle won’t budge.

Dean saw this coming a few days ago. Cas had said it was coming a few weeks back, said that it was running out and he didn’t know for sure what would happen. He continued acting as if things were okay though. Sam saw the denial, and mentioned it to Dean but there really wasn’t anything they could do about it.

Initially, Dean had been frantic, the last time he was on borrowed grace the implications had been that Cas would die and there was nothing anyone could do. Cas had assured him this was not the case as this grace was his own.

“Cas! What’s going on? Let me in.” Cas doesn’t answer. Dean sighs, running a hand across his eyes. “At least let me know you’re alive, dude.”

Cas’ response is to throw a pillow against the door, or that’s what Dean assumes as there is a loud thump and a plop as something hits the door and drops to the floor.

Later that day, Dean knocks again and asks if he's okay. He doesn’t know what else to say. Cas croaks out three words and Dean understands, “It’s gone, Dean.” This is the last thing he says for a long time.

Dean doesn’t even know what to say besides, “Damn.”

He tells Sam, and he gets the same worried expression he always gets when he’s emotional and talking about his feelings. Sam chooses to let Cas be for now though. Dean knows he’ll go to him later.

Dean spends the rest of the day anxiously cleaning some of the bunkers rooms, and later cleaning out Baby. He knows Sam has stuffed receipts and napkins in random crevices to purposefully annoy Dean.

 

 

***

 

 

The second day in Dean walks up the door, lightly knocks, and clears his throat.

“Cas, you gotta eat.” He ignores him. Dean walks to the library where Sam is sitting at the long wooden table reading from a book Dean doesn’t care to know the title of. Sam looks up, his eyes questioning. Dean stares at him and just shakes his head, shrugs his shoulders and walks away.

Later on, when he’s in his room reading on the bed, he hears Sam come by and knock Cas’ door. “Hey Cas, I just wanted to say I’m sorry. If you need anything I’m right here, okay?”

 

 

***

 

 

On the third day, Dean knocks harder. “Cas, it sucks, I know. You have me and Sam still? We're your brothers.” Cas doesn't reply. Dean knows he hears it though. There's a squeak from the bed moving as his body shifts.

 

 

***

 

 

Fourth day in, Dean gets annoyed and shouts as he pounds the door a few times. He knows he’s overreacting because he hasn’t been able to help and he doesn’t know what to do or say and he’s taking it out on Cas.

“Cas, c’mon dude, you have to come out, this is stupid. You’re acting like a baby!” The second the words leave his mouth he wants to slam his head against the door. Sam whacks Dean on the arm and calls him an insensitive prick.

“Cas just lost everything again. He lost his home and family, dude. His grace is what made him an angel.” He lowers his voice and leans in to give Dean a pat on the shoulder and says, “You need to let him grieve.”

Dean mutters as he walks away, “We are his home and family, Sam.”

 

 

***

 

 

Day five, Dean doesn't say anything but stands in front of the door anyway. Dean thinks he hears a sniff from inside.

 

 

***

 

 

The sixth day in, Dean walks up to the door knocks twice and says, “I’m sorry, Cas. I shouldn’t have said that shit. I was wrong.” Cas doesn’t say anything back.

That day he goes grocery shopping just to kill the time. He doesn’t even buy pie while he’s out, mostly to punish himself. When he comes back he fills the kitchen and fridge with his haul and scopes out the library, hoping to see Cas sitting at his favorite armchair, reading. He doesn’t though. His chest tightens when he sees Cas’ door is still locked shut when he walks by it.

 

 

***

 

 

Seventh day in, Dean and Sam hear a crash from inside Cas’ dark room. In front of the door, they hear more crashes and glass shattering. Thuds and screeches as the metal bed frame moves against the tiled floor. Sam kicks the door in, it swings.

The bed is on its side. Puffs of feathers and dust filter the air. Cas is in the middle of the room ripping at a pillow. His face is red, eyebrows pinched together, hair all over the place. His breath comes out loud, stuttering, chest and shoulders heaving. He drops the pillow and kicks the night stand over, rips a boring framed photo from the wall and slams it against another wall, the shards flying out at him.

As he makes his way to the limp mattress he slips on the glass strewn across the floor and falls to his hands and knees. The glass slices his skin, blood red is trickling down from wounded palms. He stops moving then, staring like this on his knees, eyes wide, shocked.

Sam helps sweep up the mess, lifts the mattress back on the squeaking metal frame. Dean finds the first aid kit.

Dean silently stitches both of Cas’ hands carefully. He’s on the floor in front of Cas, legs crossed, while Cas sits on his knees, silent. Dean occasionally looks up from his ministrations to check on him. His face is blank, bags under his eyes, cheek bones prominent. His eyes are glossed over.

Cas has bled before. Countless times, for Dean and Sam and for others. He knows what it feels like, he's been there before, deep cuts. Dean knows the weight of the meaning behind these cuts as they sink in. It's different this time. Cas will scar now. The permanence is scary.

After bandaging Cas up, Dean stands up with a slightly undignified grunt and pulls at Cas’ upper arms, steering him to his newly repositioned bed. He sits him down on the mattress that Sam fixed up with new sheets, blanket and pillows. He crouches down in front of Cas, knees cracking and rests on his haunches. He reaches up and pulls Cas’ chin and makes him look at him.

Cas registers what's happening, his blue eyes focus and looks Dean in the eyes properly for the first time in days.

“Cas, I’m sorry. I really am. For what I said and for what you’re going through. I haven’t been a good friend to you the past few days.” He says.

Cas nods, still silent. Dean understands though, finally. He knows Cas needs to get through this in his own way. He just needs to be there for him and he’ll be okay one day. Dean rests his hands on the bed by each of Cas’ sides.

They’re still staring so Dean starts to squirm. He breaks eye contact and looks down at the bandaged hands, folded together neatly in Cas’ lap. Clearing his throat he says, “Do you need anything?”

Glancing up again he sees that Cas hesitates before shaking his head and looking away. Dean senses this isn’t completely true so he pinches the side of Cas’ left thigh. He sees a rose blush rising across his cheekbones. Cas doesn’t blush that often or ever according to his own recollection so it takes Dean by surprise. Dean thinks he likes it a lot, the color is so stark against his tired pallor.

“C’mon buddy, anything.” Cas looks down at Dean, his eyes are clearer now. He awkwardly lifts his arms in the universal sign of “I’d like a hug” (because Cas is polite). Cas doesn’t look away, face set, determined. Serious as always.

Dean can feel his own cheeks burn a little but he nods, rising to his feet and pulls Cas into his arms. Both arms circle his waist and tangle to rest against the small of Cas’ back. Normally he doesn’t hug Cas like this, more intimate than he’s used to but he knows how desperately Cas must needs this, a closeness. He feels Cas’ arms reach around his shoulders, clutching at the fabric of Dean’s lush worn in henley shirt, and he pushes his nose into Dean’s neck. He feels every bone and muscle in Cas’ body relax, like what he needed was this all week.

Dean doesn’t care that Cas is starting to smell a little past due, that he feels moisture where he has his face pressed against Dean’s neck, or that he’s holding Dean so tightly that Dean starts to feel light headed. He pushes away all the little crap niggling at this brain. Just let’s go, gives in to how nice this is. The feeling of Cas against him, warm and comforted. Feels the pride of being responsible for giving Cas something he wanted, because Dean knows Cas has had little experience with getting what he wants.

Later, as Cas is getting into his bed, eyes puffy but content, Dean flicks off the lights. Before he cracks the door behind him he says to the room and to Cas, “You’re still an angel, Cas. Grace or no grace. You’ll always be one to me.” Dean doesn’t even care how cheesy it sounds coming out of his mouth because he knows to his core how true it is, and how it always will be.

 

 

***

 

 

On the eighth day, Sam knocks softly and asks to come in, Cas still doesn’t say anything. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed when Sam walks in. His head is down and he’s looking at his bandaged hands. Sam brings a tray with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, some baby carrots, and a glass of milk. He sits it on the nightstand Cas had knocked over the previous day.  
He doesn’t say anything else, just sits on the bed next to Cas and rests a hand on his shoulder. He gives the shoulder a little squeeze.

Cas just leans in to the touch a little and lets Sam sit next to him silently. Eventually, Sam lets his hand run up and down Cas’ back a little, comforting Cas in the same kind of way Dean used to when he was a kid.

Cas hasn’t spoken still but Sam knows he appreciates it.

 

 

***

 

 

On the morning of the ninth day, Dean walks by Cas’ room and finds a tray set outside with a few nibbled on baby carrots left over, some crumbs, and an empty glass, the bottom of which has the last dredges of milk left behind. So he at least ate.

He notices the door is cracked open, not completely shut and he peaks in. Cas is sitting at the small desk inside, the lamp that was initially set on top of it is missing. He sees Cas is hunched over writing something in a leather bound journal he has no clue Cas even owned. He wonders how he’s writing so vigorously with his injured hand but Cas is so into it he doesn’t go in and say anything.

Later, he asks Sam if he knows anything about it and finds out Sam bought it for him. Dean gets this twinge in his gut at finding this out. He goes out a local office supply store and buys Cas a set of those really expensive fancy fountain pens. He gets embarrassed and can’t bring himself to knock but leaves them by the door instead.

_-From Dean_

 

 

 

***

 

 

Day ten, Dean brings breakfast, lunch and dinner. Cas only eats dinner though. Dean wants to get annoyed about the food going to waste but he’s really just glad Cas is at least eating. He still hasn’t shaved, bathed or changed, he’s past the point of being considered “a little past due” but Dean doesn’t say anything about that either.

Cas still won’t speak but he written so much, he’s already halfway through his journal. Dean sometimes gets a peek at the contents and mostly sees entries in Enochian, sometimes English or other languages. Sometimes though, he sees drawings and sigils. It starts looking a lot like John’s hunting journal. Dean’s heart kind of does happy flips when he sees Cas writing with the fountain pens he left. The pens write beautifully and Cas squeezes his arm in thanks for the pens.

Dean mentions while walking from his room after bringing Cas dinner, that he needs to chill out and not aggravate his hand so much since it’s healing. Cas kind of just gives him a non-committal shrug, which just means that shit ain’t happening. Dean doesn’t push the subject though. Instead, he sets two ibuprofen and glass of water on the desk and tells Cas he can’t abuse them but he needs these to ease the pain.

Dean would never admit to it out loud but he spent an hour that day looking into good journals to get Cas because he was going to run out of book soon and comes across something called traveler's journals. You can customize, add journal inserts or take them out and replace, they made accessories for them too. He then spends thirty more minutes buying a bunch of stuff for Cas and having it mailed to their P.O. Box in Lebanon.

 

 

***

 

 

On day eleven, Cas eats lunch and dinner. After Cas eats the homemade BLT, Dean is so ecstatic he puts in more effort on the next meal. He makes a lasagna for dinner. He makes a salad to avoid Sam whining about the lack of vegetables and makes garlic bread.

Dean eats in the room with Cas, sitting in a chair next to his little desk. Sam brought in a new lamp for Cas, something he got in a consignment shop in town. It’s antique, with a stained glass lamp shade, and Cas actually loves it.

Cas takes breaks between drawing an angel sigil to take slow bites. Dean knows he likes the lasagna because a little smile shines through.

Spending time with Cas but not talking is mostly the same as before. They’ve always spoken in more than words anyway. The lamp shade reflects blues, greens and reds across Cas’ features. There’s sharpness of cheekbones and nose to softness of rosy lips, crow's feet and dimples as he smiles around another mouthful of lasagna. Cas looks beautiful right now, a word he thinks but can’t bring himself to say.

Cas licks his fork as he finishes up and looks over at Dean, a questioning look in his eyes. Dean is distractedly tracking the pink tongue on its course from the fork to back behind lips. He has the same expression he always makes when he's a little confused. The head tilt, the eyebrows quirked together. Exactly like the first time he made that face all those years ago in that barn.

_Good things do happen._

_Not in my experience._ He had said so many years before.

_You don’t think you deserve to be saved?_

Dean still sometimes doesn’t think he deserves that, or Cas really. He always comes back and even though Cas is still dealing with his own shit right now, Dean feels immeasurably lucky anyway. A throat clearing makes Dean start, he realizes he was just staring, zoned out with his mouth open. The finished plate of lasagna sitting cold on his lap.

Cas is still staring, eyebrows furrowed, a question behinds his eyes.

 _Dean, what’s wrong?_ He can almost hear him say his name.

“Nothing, Cas. I’m good.” Shaking himself, he rolls his shoulders and neck, working out the stiffness. Shooting Cas a soft smile, he nods at the finished plate left abandoned near the journal, Cas moves to hand it to him and he sets it on top of his own plate.

“So, you think you’ll be up for breakfast tomorrow? I was thinking about making a quiche. It’s like pie kind of, but for breakfast.” He says. Cas raises an eyebrow, like he doesn’t quite believe Dean’s earlier comment about his state of mind. “Plus, I’ll add some veggies for Sammy, because he’ll bitch otherwise.”

Cas thinks for a minute, gazing up into Dean’s eyes. Dean thinks it's weird that even though Cas is human now he still almost never needs to blink as much. He smiles a little and nods his answer.

Dean grins, and shoots Cas a wink. “Don’t worry, Cas. It’s gonna be delicious.” It’s flirty but he doesn’t care. Standing up he begins to walk away, Cas’ hand swiftly shoots out and wraps around Dean’s wrist. Eyes widening he stops and looks down at Cas in the chair.

Cas gets up. He hugs Dean so swiftly it startles him. He’s in danger of losing the plates as Cas reaches under Dean’s stiff arms and around to his back. He links his arms together and holds on. His head rests against Dean’s chest, just below his chin. He can feel Cas’ messy hair tickle his neck. Dean brings his free arm around to Cas’ back and runs his hand against the soft fabric.

He’s embarrassed, but he knows why Cas is doing this. He wants to show Dean he’s appreciative of his support. Cas has always been affectionate in ways Dean and Sam are not. While Dean tends to be repressed about touch, Cas actively seeks it, yearns for it. He doesn’t have an issue with reaching out and touching.

“Cas, you don’t have to thank me, you would do the same for me or Sam.” Dean’s chokes out, pulse speeding up, freckled cheeks burning. He feels Cas nod against his neck and he feels him breath in deeply and sigh. He lets go after another minute of overwhelming (on Dean’s part) silence between the two. Dean lets his hand stroke against Cas’ shoulder and arm one last time as his own arm drops to his side. He grunts, his voice betraying all calmness he was trying evoke, “Uh Cas, I better go clean this up.

Then they’re just standing in front of each other, eyes locked. Dean nervously chuckles and backs away, trying not to panic-jog out of the room.

 

 

Later, Sam walks into the Cas’ room, two mugs of herbal tea in hand and sits one on the desk Cas is working on. He spends awhile chatting with Cas and sipping on his own mug. Dean walks by after cleaning up the kitchen and hears Sam chuckling about his trip to a local farmer’s market nearby and how a significantly older woman hit on him (again). He’s describing how she had laughed and placed her hand on his chest and let it linger there for far too long after he made an extremely un-funny remark about the produce he was looking at. Sam’s laughing because, “I didn’t expect her to claw me, man.”

“You know, the farmer’s market I went to though, we should go sometime. It’s really cool and they have a local bee farmer who has different honeys and some are infused with added flavors, like raspberry and blueberries. I got this tea from there too.” Sam babbles, he’s well and truly excited about it. Dean would be embarrassed of how nerdy his big floppy haired little brother is if he didn’t see Cas’ excited expression, his face is lit up and he’s nodding excitedly.

“You’d really like it there, Cas.” He adds, Sam’s voice is content and warm. Dean’s happy that Sam and Cas get along so well, that he’s Cas’ best friend also. How much alike they are and yet so different.

Dean leans one shoulder against the open door frame, crossing his legs, watching. Sam is animatedly telling Cas more cool things he saw at the Farmer’s market and Cas is rapt with attention. Dean looks at the two, warm feelings nestled in his chest. He thinks for the first time in a long time, properly, that he deserves this, and so do Sam and Cas.

Happiness.

 

 

***

 

 

On the morning of day twelve, Dean is absentmindedly humming to Led Zeppelin's Kashmir while whisking eggs for the quiche he promised Cas. Sam comes in just as he’s getting really into the song, he’s nodding his head to the beat of the song and whisk, tapping his feet and dancing along. Sam gives him a bemused look, eyebrows shooting up towards the hairline of his shiny well-groomed mop of hair. At first Dean’s embarrassed but he’s in too good of a mood to care so he shrugs as a response. He stops doing his jig but he keeps humming anyway.

Sam putters his way around the kitchen, pours himself a mug of coffee and sets to finding the creamer. When he’s done, he sidles up next to Dean to inspect. He’s surprised when he sees two pie crusts, heavy cream, bacon, ham, broccoli, leeks and an assortment of different cheeses set in front of Dean and the many eggs he’s whisking away at happily.

“Dude, are you making quiche?” He says, the shit-eating grin he gets when he’s stumbled upon something just perfect. Dean side eyes Sam and says, “Yeah, Sammy, it’s like pie for breakfast. It’s freakin’ delicious.”

“You’ve never made quiche before. Did someone-” He clears his throat dramatically, “I mean- something happen to make you decide to do that?”

Dean tries to keep his expression blank but when he looks over at him, Sam has this stupid expression of glee on his face and Dean wants to sucker punch him in the gut a little for being a little shit. He rolls his eyes, but feels his cheeks flare up.

“Sam, do you not want any quiche? Because I’ll throw your piece in the trash. I don’t even care about wasting it.” Sam’s expression doesn’t wane though. He’s chuckling to himself like he’s the funniest person alive. So smug.

“I’m just surprised is all, you’re putting in so much effort for Cas.” Sam turns and leans his back against the counter, crosses his arms, watching Dean add a heavy cream to the mixture of eggs and starts whisking again. Dean looks over and squints at him suspiciously.

“You say that like I don’t do nice things for Cas.” He remarks sharply. He knows he’s not always the best person, he’s harsh at times and yeah, he did kind of say some mean shit to Cas a few days ago but it’s not like he’s incapable of caring and being comforting when he needs to be.  
Sam seems to get that the remark kind of stung, so his voice goes all typically Sammy Sentimental, trademark pending.

“Dean, you know that’s not what I meant, okay.” He sips his coffee and continues. “I’m just saying it’s nice, you know. Cas is already doing better compared to the first day. I mean remember last time he was human, we didn’t really do right by him.”

Dean kind of hates thinking about that. He knows he really messed up. Cas wouldn’t have been taken advantage of, then tortured and stabbed to death if he hadn’t left him to fend for himself newly human. If he had just talked to Cas about the shit going down. He sniffs and looks down at the eggs, he decides to add pepper to the mixture next. The grinding sound covers the sound of his own grinding teeth.

“Yeah, thanks for reminder, Sam.” He grunts. He pulls the pie crusts to him and starts layering bacon, broccoli and cheddar cheese in one, and ham, leeks and Swiss cheese in the other, topping each off with his egg mixture. He throws more cheese on top, sprinkles on chopped green onions and pushes them toward Sam and hands him the aluminum foil. Sam sighs and obliges by covering each pie crust neatly.

“Cas doesn’t hold grudges like that, so you shouldn’t either. I just mentioned it because it's true and we can do better this time.” Sam’s voice is even and always the voice of logic. Dean is just a little bitter because he knows Sam’s right and he’ll always feel guilty about it.

“Whatever Sammy, what you do you think I’m doing right now.” Dean gestures towards the quiches and the messy counter that he’s going to meticulously clean while waiting for them to bake. Sam sighs and sits at the table with his laptop.

 

 

 

Later, while waiting for the quiches to brown up, Dean and Sam are sitting at the table quietly discussing the plans for the day. Sam’s talking but his eyes are fixed to the laptop. Dean hears a small noise behind him, a sniff and a shuffle of a slipper against the tile of the kitchen floor. His head turns so fast, he cricks his neck loudly. He’s up and out of his seat so fast when he sees Cas is standing in the doorway.

He’s wearing a set of clothes Dean set inside his room at some point but Cas hadn’t bothered even looking at. A faded maroon henley he hasn’t worn in years, a pair of sweats that had gotten a little tight on him, right down to a pair of slippers left behind by someone. Dean’s relieved he has changed clothes, but he’s also uncomfortable. He doesn’t like how the outfit and how Cas is looking makes his heart flutter a little. His body is betraying him because he just looks so damn cute. His hair is all over the place, there are marks on his face from where it was undoubtedly smushed against the fabric of his pillows in a dead sleep. His eyes are squinted from sleep and he has a little wrinkle between his brows, one shoulder exposed and Dean’s eye tracks the naturally tanned skin there. Cas is just kind of standing there, an expression like someone did him wrong.

It’s silent and no one is talking until Sam clears his throat pointedly and speaks, “Hey Cas, good to see you this morning. Dean made quiche. It’ll be ready soon.” Smiling good-naturedly, he gets up and grabs the coffee pot and a spare mug, holding it out to Cas.

Cas nods blearily and accepts the cup from Sam after he pours him a sizable amount. Dean continues to stare. He doesn’t know why he’s acting like this and he’s seen Cas in many states of disarray but it’s different now somehow. He follows Cas’ movements around the kitchen as he goes for the creamer in the fridge. He watches him pour creamer and spill it but not do anything about the mess. He doesn’t screw the top on correctly either. Cas stirs the creamer in and just stands near the table for a while silent, gulping his coffee.

Instead of saying anything, Dean goes for the oven and checks out the two quiches. He pulls them out and sets them on top of the counter. Cas follows him eventually and stands close as he pulls the aluminum off completely and lets them air. He shakes them to see if the middle looks cooked right. They seem alright. Dean looks over and sees Cas is smiling and his eyes are closed, an expression of pure bliss across his face. He opens them and nods his approval. His eyes are still sleepy.

“C’mon Cas, let’s see if you like how they taste. I made two different types.”

As they’re sitting at the small table, Dean watches Cas take the first bite of the bacon, broccoli and cheddar slice. He put a slice of each on the plate for Cas to test out just in case. His expression when he’s finished chewing and swallowing is worth the wait. Cas really takes his time chewing at first and makes a lot of confusing expressions and Dean’s worried for a bit he’s going to hate it. Then Cas smiles so bright Dean actually sees some of his pink gums and nods happily and continues digging in.

Dean hadn’t realized he was holding his breath until he sighs with relief. Imagine if Cas hated it after he had hyped up his own ability to make a solid tasting quiche. How traumatic for Cas if he got a taste and it was an undercooked eggy mess.

It’s Sam who shakes Dean from the heated one-sided stare he was giving Cas as he was happily but Dean noticed kind of messily enjoying his breakfast.

“Hey Cas, I was thinking we should take you somewhere to get some clothes and things for you and your room.” He’s smiling over at the two of them from behind his laptop. “We never really got a chance before and you never got a chance to officially move in.” He’s got this secret smile and Dean looks over for Cas’ expression and sees it’s surprised. His clear blue eyes are awake finally and his mouth open, there’s a bit of crust left on the corner of his mouth. Dean wants to reach out and brush it off.

After some quiet contemplation, Cas nods, a little dazed. He looks as though he might cry, his wide eyes are moist but nothing spills over.

“Sam’s right, we should make sure you’re comfortable here. You should have stuff that’s just your own.” Dean says as he shoots Cas a good natured smile. It’s all teeth and charm and he continues teasingly, “Besides, you can’t wear my old sweats and shirts forever, even with my impeccable fashion sense.” Dean clicks his tongue and finger guns.

Cas rolls his eyes and shakes his head, smiling. He still hasn’t spoken and by now Dean and Sam don’t expect him to but the smile he gives them both says everything it needs to.

_Thank you._

**Author's Note:**

> i really intend to continue this, i have a lot of thoughts about these three people (four if you include mary which i intend to later) and it takes place in kind of a post-series verse and was written without season 12 in mind, basically post season 11. things are steady, where its more domestic than anything and dean, sam and cas build a life together after all the shit they've been through
> 
> ALSO. this series will be more dean/cas but it will happen in later fics. : ) 
> 
>  
> 
> also there's a little homage to a conversation my friend (the one who helped edit) and i had about how new generation hunters would start bullet journals and would have all the cutest washi tape and accessories. i am just picturing gruff angry dirty post hunt people having cute aesthetic journals. 
> 
> midori travelers were kind of the inspiration for the journals dean looked at for cas, i have one too and its cool because you can add as many journal inserts as you want:  
> https://www.jetpens.com/blog/midori-travelers-notebook-a-comprehensive-guide/pt/726
> 
> i thought it would be hilarious to see dean on etsy buying cas a bunch of journal stuff.


End file.
